


Not as a Prisoner

by testedcyberneticz



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: War for Cybertron Trilogy (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testedcyberneticz/pseuds/testedcyberneticz
Summary: "If you're here to kill me, you're too late." Words that Ratchet, being who he is, really hated hearing.
Relationships: Impactor/Ratchet
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Not as a Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Hi if anything is incorrect on canon uhh pretend its au

"If you're here to kill me, you're too late." Words that Ratchet, being who he is, really hated hearing. It was the worst kind of sentence, someone who was giving up when it was possibly too late, but not completely. Ratchet put down his weapon.

"C'mon, stay with me." He kneeled down by the Decepticon before him.

"What?" Asked Impactor weakly, his optics a low glow and his vents shaky. Yes, Impactor was a rather known Decepticon. Known for brutality. But a patient was a patient, and unless Megatron himself was beneath his hands, he could never deny one help.

"Stay with me, try to keep still if you can." Ratchet began the work of patching him up, just enough to get him back to the camp. It wasn't like he wasn't prepared for this anyway. It's why he had come out at all- finding places of the aftermath of battle, those left behind to heal them and ensure their safety. Someone had to give these people some, and it certainly wasn't going to be Optimus or Megatron.

Impactor's optics shifted to his chest, "Why?" Ah. He must've noticed the Autobot symbol. 

"Try not to strain yourself," He heard a rather concerning noise come from Impactor as he moved a part, "I'm a medic. Sides don't matter, alright? Not now." He noticed dimming lights, and felt panic flare in his spark as he snapped his fingers directly above Impactor's face, "Don't you _dare_! Stay. With. Me." 

The lights flickered back into life, confusion crossing them as they squinted. 

"Listen here, I'm using what I can to heal you to the best of my abilities, then I'm getting you back to camp. Not as a prisoner, but as a patient." 

Impactor made a small noise of agreement. 

* * *

Being crushed and impaled by a building wasn't his favorite thing in the world. Being left behind by the Decepticons, probably assumed dead all too easily, was worse. He couldn't move, he couldn't even make it quicker at the very least. The pain for sure wasn't helping. 

And then Ratchet, who he only just barely recognized if at all, was putting his weapon down. 

"C'mon, stay with me." Ratchet spoke as he kneeled down by Impactor's soon to be dead body. At least, that's how it felt like. 

"What?" Asked Impactor, and he noticed his voice was weak and shaky. Damn it. What did he think he was doing? Was he helping? Was he gonna just tear him apart for scrap alive? Despite being able to recognize him, he barely had any information on Ratchet. 

"Stay with me, try to keep still if you can." Ratchet said in an oddly gentle tone as he began taking out tools. Okay. So he was fixing him up then. He noticed that the world was getting blurry around him and frowned even deeper. His optics eventually drifted to Ratchet's chest and his spark somehow felt tighter. 

An _Autobot_.

"Why?" He questioned because what did this Autobot think he was _doing_?

"Try not to strain yourself," Was the response he got. He heard a strange noise and then felt himself flinch at the strike of pain, so much so his optics suddenly were getting darker, more blurred, more- 

A snap just over his face hit his audials like lightening, "Don't you _dare_! Stay. With. Me." Ratchet's words were desperate, yet somehow... comforting. Impactor squinted his optics as he tried to get the world back into view. 

"Listen here, I'm using what I can to heal you to the best of my abilities, then I'm getting you back to camp. Not as a prisoner, but as a patient." Ratchet continued. 

Impactor let those last eight words echo in his head as he hummed in agreement. 

* * *

Ratchet watched quietly as Impactor was in recharge, shifting tools to the sides and refilling energon where and when needed. He vented deeply, hoping to get the invisible weight off his shoulders. It failed.

"Do you want me to takeover?" A neutral asked as gently as they could, a freshly fixed one at that. Ratchet gave a soft smile. 

"Don't overdo yourself just to make me feel better. I can handle this one. Thank you anyway, though." He gave a slight wave before turning his attention back to Impactor. If he was being honest, he really, really, didn't want anyone else to work on Impactor. There was an odd feeling of... _Protectiveness_ , almost. Sure, he had that with all patients, but this one seemed somewhat larger, somehow.

And then Impactor's optics flickered on. 

"Where-?" 

"It's alright, it's alright. You're safe," Ratchet vaguely nodded his helm toward the entrance to the camp as he held his hands up in a pose similar to that of a surrender, "Safer than you'd be out there, anyway." 

Impactor decided to stare at him like he was a ghost. Then he looked at his own wrists, moving them. Only to begin to attempt to touch his own chest before Ratchet stopped him verbally, since grabbing people like him caused panic easily.

"You'll open it again, don't do that." He scolded. But even still, he kept his hands up to show he wasn't holding a weapon.

"No cuffs?" 

"No cuffs. No one gets stasis cuffs when they come here, that includes you." He assured, unsurprised at Impactor's question. It was important to not make threats, that the patient didn't feel in danger. If they did, mecha could get hurt by the panic. He needed to protect them from that kind of thing, being a medic and all. People getting more hurt then they already were wouldn't be helpful when it came to supplies. It was important to tread carefully and patiently. 

"However," Ratchet continued after Impactor looked at him with... _Some_ kind of look, "You shouldn't move for a good while. That should've killed you, but you're strong." 

"Should've..." Ratchet didn't like the tone used at all. 

"And it _didn't_. Make sure to get rest, alright? That means no moving around." 

"And what am I supposed to do while I wait?" Impactor's mouth was a slightly tilted line.

Ratchet shrugged, "I'm here. Talking is fine." 

Talking ended up being more than fine, after all. Nice, even. 

* * *

His optics slowly powered on, along with the rest of his sensory systems. Warnings striked across his HUD, along with updates on fixed wounds. Impactor noticed the sensation of someone next to him and took a chance. 

"Where-?" 

"It's alright, it's alright. You're safe," Ratchet vaguely nodded his helm toward the entrance to the camp as he held his hands up in a pose similar to what seems like that of surrender, "Safer than you'd be out there, anyway." Impactor's optics trailed to the way that Ratchet had pointed toward as he spoke. 

Then, his body, not really him himself, decided to stare at Ratchet, because what in Primus' name was _going on_? Soon enough, he was looking at his own wrists, realizing they weren't cuffed and that he could, in fact, move them. Frankly, he had expected to be cuffed by now. 

The pain in his chest let out a small, crying echo. Before he realized it, his hand was drifting.

"You'll open it again, don't do that." Ratchet scolded, but didn't forcibly stop him. 

"No cuffs?" He asked warily. 

"No cuffs. No one gets stasis cuffs when they come here, that includes _you_." Ratchet assured him softly, and Impactor grew both grateful and frustrated. Grateful, because honestly, he hasn't been treated like this in quite a while. Frustrated because of how calm he is. He's an Autobot, and yet he's acting like they've never fought. Like he isn't directly facing a Decepticon known for being good at his job. 

But... It felt nice. It really did. 

Before he knew it, he shot Ratchet a look. 

"However. You shouldn't move for a good while. That should've killed you, but you're strong." Ratchet sounded so confident and... Did he sound almost _proud_ of him? No. Absolutely not. He was imagining that.

"Should've..." He quietly let out. He noticed Ratchet's face scrunch up for a second. 

"And it didn't. Make sure to get rest, alright? That means no moving around." 

"And what am I supposed to do while I wait?" Impactor made sure he didn't look impressed.

I'm here. Talking is fine." Ratchet shrugged, and Impactor noticed a small, almost shy smile. 

Talking ended up being a comfort more than a burden. 

* * *

Those who are healed enough help others. That was a rule he told everyone. He couldn't do it all on his own, so many were here now, and in _hiding_. 

Returning from a search for survivors (met only with ravaged corpses), Ratchet looked out at those who treated others and those who were being treated. Even if walking through a battlefield was depressing, at least coming back to seeing this helped. Just a little, but it was something. Anything. And seeing Impactor being a helping hand made the tired look on his face the smallest smile. 

Almost as if Impactor could sense said smile, he murmured something to who he had been treating than began his walk towards Ratchet. Said medic noticed the fact Impactor had somehow managed to heal from something so life threatening so quickly. It was impressive, if he was being honest. 

"Any good finds?" 

"No, unfortunately." Ratchet noticed how the Decepticon in front of him looked genuinely confused. 

"Then what's with the smile?" Impactor was hard to read at times, but his face seemed to have worry on it.

"Just happy to see everything is going well here." He then noticed the odd noise Impactor made.

"You should rest." It was blunt.

"I'll be fine, I need to check on things anyways." Ratchet began to walk away, but had a hand grab his arm. _Impactor's_ hand had, so he looked at him. 

"I'm going to tell you the truth here. You look terrible. You can't help people like this." Impactor's stare was intense, and Ratchet let out a vent. 

"Fine. But not for too long." 

* * *

If you're healed enough, you need to help the others. That's what Ratchet had basically told him in short. It made sense when he thought about it, and he didn't exactly want to break the bond he had formed with him. 

The Autobot he was helping right now was nice enough anyways. Though a bit overconfident in his opinion. He was also used to this, apparently, which worried him more than ease his concern. 

"Fifth time here actually, but eventually had to go back out and all!" The Autobot before him shrugged with one arm, due to the other being cut clean off. 

"You were forgotten on the field _five times_?" 

"Ehhhh- my team isn't the best. Not everyone is at Prime's place, you know?" Impactor only nodded in response, so they continued, "It's good to see you okay. I remember seeing Ratchet bring you in. He can be a miracle worker sometimes." 

Impactor hummed in agreement, then suddenly stopped as he felt someone watching him. 

"I gotta greet him." He murmured and the Autobot smiled in understanding. Impactor stopped kneeling and stood, turned on his heel, and immediately saw Ratchet. 

Ratchet, who looked ready to fall over from pure exhaustion. Clearly no one was with him either, so no success. He swore he could see the ex-inventor's hands shaking. 

(It was strange when he had found out about just why Ratchet had felt slightly familiar, he expected something much different. Not an inventor, of all things. Well. Ex-inventor, now.)

He noticed an odd, small smile on Ratchet's face and asked, "Any good finds?" 

"No, unfortunately." Was the response, which was confusing as hell because why was he smiling then? 

"Then what's with the smile?" He wasn't a fan of secrets or mysteries, if he was honest. Best to just be blunt.

"Just happy to see everything is going well here." Ratchet replied, and Impactor hummed worriedly, because that shouldn't be such a low line. It really shouldn't. The exhaustion radiating off of the Autobot probably didn't help. 

"You should rest." 

"I'll be fine, I need to check on things anyways." Ratchet began to walk away immediately after speaking, and Impactor grabbed his arm. Seems he's working with a workaholic. Ratchet turned his head back at him, slight confusion and surprise on his face, but the exhaustion never leaving. 

"I'm going to tell you the truth here. You look terrible. You can't help people like this." Impactor immediately saw Ratchet's expression turn grateful, like this was a rare thing to be warned of or once had been, and he hated it. He _hated_ the chance of it so much, that he hadn't been given warnings. 

Ratchet vented, "Fine. But not for too long." 

* * *

Ratchet had never heard a gunshot be so deafening in his entire life. He genuinely didn't think one ever could be, really. Though, the weapon itself wasn't that loud. 

It was the fact that _Impactor_ had taken the shot. Smoke came from him, just over his chest as he stood like a shield for Ratchet. Everything was frozen and yet moving so fast he couldn't process it. Before he even realized it, Impactor was in his arms, speaking words that sounded like final ones.

"No." 

Impactor made a weak, questioning noise. 

"You're not dying that easy." 

And he got to work. 

* * *

Impactor never welcomed something so much in his life. No, in the end he wasn't okay with death. But who he was dying for? It made it feel... Okay. This is an honorable and genuine death. 

He didn't realize when he had fallen. Or when Ratchet was holding him so tensely yet so gentle and tenderly, all professionalism gone in seconds. He didn't realize when words began spilling out, each wor-

" ** _No_**." Ratchet's voice cut through sharper than anything he'd ever felt. Impactor tried to speak, to question what was going on, but could only make noise. 

"You're not dying that easy." And damn it, he couldn't help the smile from happening. He knew what to do from here. 

Stay with him, don't strain himself, don't move. 

Not as a prisoner, but as a patient.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway they're both alive hasbro. 
> 
> Okay that said I'm easy as hell to please so I liked wfc but it did lack The Content on these two. So ummm I care them sm I wrote my longest one shot.


End file.
